No One Can Know
by Dedeen
Summary: Post 4x23 and beyond. Speculation on Season 5. Linstead.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody. The finale left a lot to be desired, so here is my contribution. This was supposed to be a one shot, but I got a little carried away. There will be 1-2 chapters following to tie it all up.**

 **I own nothing**

 **ps. I didn't forget my other fic. I'm fixing some kinks and should have a chapter up soon.**

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Jay's POV.

Erin didn't show up at Molly's, nor did she come up for air when the board dropped her case. Voight didn't seem in the least worried about it. I figured he knew of her whereabouts, but found it in her best interest not to share. I tried her phone, her apartment – nothing. The team didn't seem that concerned either. I guess everyone assumed she was taking time off to clear her head. But I knew Erin, and she was never one to clear her head.

The weekend came and went and Erin still didn't show her face back at the district. Voight never mentioned the (missing) elephant in the room, nor did anyone else. So I got desperate. There was a certain red box burning a hole in my pants' pocket. I was convinced the diamond solitaire ring didn't belong there; it belongs on Erin's ring finger. So, I knocked on Voight's door knowing full well I was digging my own grave by asking of Erin's whereabouts. I needed to at least know she was okay.

"Come in," Voight rasped. When I opened the door it was as if he knew exactly why I was there. He motioned for me to enter and said, "Close the door."

"Sarge—"

He put a hand up, cutting me off. "She got pulled for an undercover gig with the Feds."

His words drifted past my ears, not registering, not making any real sense. "W-What? W-When?" I stuttered. I felt panic come on so quickly it made me dizzy and my knees began to betray me. I remember reaching for the edge of the desk for support. "For how long?"

"I don't know the details," Voight said dismissively and turned his focus back to the papers in front of him.

"Bullshit," I snapped. The words flew out of my mouth before I could hold them back.

"Excuse me?"

I paced, angry at myself for not seeing it earlier. "All of this… the board dropping her case, Bunny getting pinched by the Feds, Erin leaving…. It has your name all of it," after a beat I concluded, "You sent her away."

"I did not send her away. I gave her an out," Voight told me and after a beat he added, "And she took it."

Voight's reply sliced through the fantasy I'd created about Erin and I and let the sharp light of reality blind me. Erin took an out – from her job, from her mother, and from me. I tried to keep my self-composure, but an internal storm was threatening to break out. I was disappointed with myself, but I projected my anger onto Voight.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't split us up. Erin would have never entered that interrogation room strapped had I been there." I didn't wait for a response, if he had one. I opened the door and stormed out.

x

I didn't think I could sink any lower emotionally or in any other way. But I did. I was distraught and broken. My heart ached and the pain refused to go away. For weeks I went about my days in a complete daze, heading for the nearest bottle of Scotch any chance I got. I drank until I'd forgotten how much I had already drunk, and then I drank more. But the alcohol didn't drown my sorrows – it only made them more obvious. I stopped going to my peer support group and I used my anger to shut everyone out. Looking back, I just wanted to numb my heart, but nothing and no one could fill the Erin size hole there.

Eventually everything came crashing down one night after a long night of drinking that put me in the hospital. Even today I can't remember exactly happened. I have little recollection of those days. It's all fuzzy, all gray. I was brought in with deep lacerations to my forehead and neck and I had enough alcohol in my system to keep me smashed for days. There were complications and I was in the hospital for almost two weeks. Surprisingly, Voight turned a blind eye to my comportment, which I'm sure wasn't easy. He put me in furlough and it took me a minute, but I finally pulled my head out of my ass. I returned the ring to its rightful home – the safety deposit box, and got myself back to the support group. Slowly everything began righting itself again. But the proverbial hole in my heart, I learned, would always be there.

That was three months ago…

I still haven't heard from Erin, and every day I miss her like crazy. I guess I'm thankful for the job. It keeps me busy. For the past couple of weeks, we've been working on this human trafficking case day and night. I hate these cases, but the ball fell on our court when Kevin and Adam responded to a homicide of a young girl, Vania, which we later linked her to a sex trafficking ring. We've tried every angle, the team even went undercover a couple of times, but these girls are scared and won't give us the name of their pimp. Even Sargent Benson got pulled into this mess when some of the girls we pinched had been picked up in New York for solicitation.

Hank paces back and forth in front of the white board and says, "Where are we with the girls we have in custody?"

"They've given us nothing," Kevin says. "Burgess and I have been trying to work them, but they're scared."

"Where are we with the temporary visas?" Hank asks.

"Immigration services won't issue temporary visas until the petitioner reports the crime," Kim explains. "But even if these girls did, it could take months."

Hank massages his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "Ruzek, that girl you picked up in Bridgeport—"

"Sheila?" He offers. "We kicked her."

"Bring her back in. She seemed unhappy enough to jump."

"Boss, she'll bolt as soon as she sees my face," Ruzek says.

Hank thinks for a moment, then points at me, "Halstead, you're up." This takes me by surprise. I've been sidelined since my _hiatus_ , so I'm stunned that he wants me to do this. "Call their escort services and set up a _date_. Ask for Sheila. If she's not available, throw more money. Get this girl back here."

The date is set up and I'm mic'ed and waiting for Sheila at this scrappy hotel outside of town. I'm pacing and my eyes keep turning to the mini bar. I could really use a drink right about now. I don't know why I'm so nervous. This is nothing compared to the shit I've had to do. I guess it's just been a minute. Also, my back-up isn't here.

"Halstead," I hear Ruzek in my ear. "Are you alright, man? You're going to wear out that shag carpet pacing like that."

I stop and take a deep breath. "I'm fine," I tell him. "Just... Let me know when she's coming."

"Copy that."

My hands are clammy and cold; my mind is going a million miles an hour. I run a hand over my face and straighten the lapels on my jacket. _It's okay_ , I tell myself. _It's like riding a bike. Just stay calm._ I lick my parched lips and scrape my teeth across it, as I go over the details of my cover.

Moments later I hear Ruzek say, "Show time," in my ear.

The knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I walk towards it and slowly pull it open.

"Are you Mr. Smith?" The young woman asks in her thick accent. She has that tired-to-death look, her shoulders sag from fatigue. I doubt that I'm her first _costumer_ tonight.

"Uh, yes," I say. "Please, come in." I move out of the way so she can enter this sad excuse of a room. I close the door and follow her inside.

"You're very handsome," she says and leans against the wall looking into the bedroom. "Where're you from?"

"New York," I say, trying but failing to sound remotely casual.

"Can I see an ID?" She asks, extending her palm towards me. When I frown she explains, "Cops have been sniffing around."

"Okay," I say and pull out my fake ID. She takes it from my hand, inspects it, and playfully hands it back.

"Ryan Smith," she intones the first name and slides past me to take a seat on the bed. She crosses her legs and her dress rides up higher than it should.

"Now what?" I ask.

"Whatever you want," she says. "If you like it straight it's an extra $200."

She reaches for my belt, but I jerk away. This spooks her. Her eyes widen. I think on my feet and I take her hands gently in my and whisper, "I don't want it straight."

She relaxes a bit and says, "What _do_ you want?"

After a beat I offer, "I want to help you." She looks momentarily stricken by my words. I need to be honest with her and she needs to hear it. "I'm a detective in the Intelligence u—"

She bolts from the bed and makes a beeline straight for the door.

"Wait! Wait…" I call out and grab her arm. "I'm not here to arrest you."

She tries to jerk away, but I tighten my hold.

"What do you want from me?"

"Your help," I tell her. She stills and I slowly loosen my grip on her arm when I'm certain she's not going to run out. "I want to put away the men who put you up to this."

"I told the other cop that I don't know anything."

"Sheila—"

"No—"

"We can keep you safe," I say.

"No," she repeats, shaking her head. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. She swipes at her face smearing her black mascara. "They are going to kill me."

"Like they killed Vania?" At the mention of her friend's name she stills. "Come with me and my unit can keep you safe."

I see her resolve weaken and the ground rushes to meet her knees. Tears roll down her cheeks and sobs choke her words. I bend down to her level. "We'll do everything we can to keep you safe." After a beat I add, "Will you help me?"

She stares up at me through tired, glistening eyes that have seen too much, and nods.

x

Sheila's story is heartbreaking. I don't know what Erin is doing right now, but I'm glad she's not here to hear this. This is the type of case that would've messed with her head. She tells us she answered an ad for a nanny back in Ukraine. She was then smuggled in through Mexico and brought to New York, where they broke her. She tried to leave, but they threatened to kill her family. She kept her head down, but she aged out of the target market in New York, so they shipped her to Chicago. She tells us they killed Vania because she tried to escape. They wanted to make an example out of her.

In the next few days we apprehend the bastards in Chicago, but the shot callers, we come to find out, are in New York. I fly there the following day, and together with Benson's special victim's unit, I continue to work on the case after the duo we apprehended in Chicago offers up names and locations for the trafficking operation in New York. We set up surveillance, but we are unable to get enough traction for a search warrant. If this was Chicago, Voight would have waved his finger and a shiny warrant would have materialized from thin air.

"Halstead," Sargent Benson approaches me. "You got Sheila to open up. Do you think you can get another girl to talk?"

"Maybe," I tell her. "If you can get me in I will try."

"Good," she says and pats me on the shoulder. "I have a CI that owes me a favor."

x

I'm standing amongst a sea of people on top of a high-rise building. The music is loud and the strobe lights are making me nauseous. The CI Benson put me in contact with is supposed to meet me here and make introductions. I'm supposed to be this rich business man looking to have some fun. I finally feeling like myself again. I'm the furthest thing from the nervous guy Sheila met in that scrappy hotel room.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, "You, uh, Ryan?"

"Yes," I say. "You Link?"

"Yeah, yeah…C'mon, they are waiting for you." He plucks a drink from a tray and puts it in my hand. "Quit looking like a cop."

I down the drink and follow him through the crowd and up a set of stairs. The party noises become muffled and, to my relief, the strobe lights blink dimly at a distance. We reach a set of double doors with two burly men standing guard.

"Tell King I got Richie Rich here with me."

One of the man nods and disappears behind the doors. I open a button on my shirt and crack each side of my neck, relieving the tension there. The guard comes back, pats me down, and then signals for me to go inside. This is by far the fanciest room I've ever been in. All it's missing is a Tiger lying on a red velvet pillow.

A man dressed in all white approaches me and asks, "Welcome. Would you like a drink?"

"Scotch. Neat," I tell him. Don't want to set off any flags.

"You're here on business or…?" He lets the sentence linger, while handing me the drink.

"Business," I offer. I take a sip from the cup and it bites at my throat as it goes down and ends up warm in my stomach.

"What kind of business?" he asks.

"I'm a PR specialist." The man frowns so I go on, "I'm the person you call when you need sensitive information to go away."

"I see," he says. "I think I need your services," he says with a dry chuckle.

"With all due respect," I tell him. "You can't afford me."

The man is taken aback by my bold reply and chuckles humorlessly. He looks me up and down and asks, "With all due respect." He parrots my earlier vernacular, "How come a pretty boy like you want one of my girls? Can't get a girl out there?"

I half chuckle half scoff. "I have an acquired taste and most women can't…consent."

The man raises an eyebrow. "Okay, okay. Come back tomorrow and we can talk business."

This wanna-be Pope is trying to play games with me. "If I leave right now I'm not coming back. I will just hop across the bridge where I usually get my _fix_ taken care of." I can see that he is contemplating his next move. "Look, I buy smack off your boy Link. He said you had new merchandise and I'm in the mood for something…different."

The man continues to scrutinize me, weighting my words against his better judgement. I keep myself calm and indifferent. After a few silent moments, he nods to one of his henchmen and he disappears towards the back. Seconds later I hear and click-clack of high heel shoes coming in my direction. One by one, the young women appear. They remind me of Sheila –sad eyes, stooped shoulders, forced smile. But then I think my eyes betray me when they land on the fifth girl walking in.

 _Erin?_

My head pounds and I can hear my heart beating like a drum. When she comes into full view, I suddenly can't breathe, can't think, my vision goes blurry. I blink a few times, convinced my eyes are playing tricks on me, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

"Everything okay?" The man asks.

"Yes," I choke out, pulling at my collar. "Just, um… overwhelmed."

The man in white grins. "Pick one."

My eyes lock with hers and although she's keeping a cool façade I can see the same shock rippling across her face.

"Her," I point in Erin's direction.

The man nods and the other girls scurry away. "Show him to his room."

We are escorted to a room and when the door locks behind us, I open my mouth to say something, but she locks her lips with mine. Our mouths collide so forcefully, I almost fall backwards. I don't know what's going on. My mind is spinning out of control. The taste of her mouth and the softness of her lips overwhelms my senses. Until this moment, I hadn't realized how much I really missed her. I begin to kiss her back and her answering sigh of pleasure nearly brings me to my knees. She walks us to the bathroom and turns the shower on. She pushes me under the water jet and I brace my hands against the tiles when her lips collide with mine once again.

With the shower head raining above us, she pulls away slightly and whispers, "They are listening," against my lips.

The warm water cascades around us. My chest heaves with each breath I inhale. My hands are still gripping her waist, her body still bending to mine. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

She shakes her head and pulls my dress shirt open, when she doesn't find what she's looking for she pulls at my belt buckle and takes the metal clip apart, finding what she is looking for – the recording chip. She mangles it in her hands.

Before I can protest she silences me with a finger to my lips and yanks her skimpy dress over her head. Her fingers fiddle with the underwire support of her bra and seconds later she pulls out her own recording device. She mangles it too.

As if exhausted by her actions, Erin slides down the white subway tiled wall until she's sitting on the shower floor. I turn the water off and join her.

After a few silent moments I ask, "Who was listening?"

"My boss," she says. "If she finds out you're here she will shut this whole operation down, and I will have—" She catches herself before she adds anything else. "Tell whoever you're working for to stop investigating King."

"Why would I do that?"

"If you don't you'll jeopardize my entire operation."

I look at her, drenched, wearing a black lacy bra and underwear I've never seen before. Her skin is flushed from the hot water and her makeup is running down her face. She's lost weight, I notice. She looks tired and haggard.

"Are the Feds making you do _this_?"

She pulls herself up, plucks her dress from a puddle on the floor, and glares at me. "No one's making me do anything," she says and steps out of the shower. There's a bite to her tone. I look up at her and see the same nip there. She yanks a pristine white towel hanging next to the sink and walks out of the bathroom.

"Erin," I follow her out, grabbing a towel on my way. "Tell me it's not a coincidence that your mom walks on drug conspiracy charges the same damn day you get recruited by the Feds?"

"Shhhhh!" She sounds over me. "Keep your damn voice down." Her own voice is a whisper. She shakes her head and clears her throat. "You won't understand," she says, her voice vibrating with so much more to say.

"Try me, Erin. Tell me—"

"I don't have time for this," she interrupts me, wiggling back into her wet dress. "Go back to whoever is leading this investigation and tell them to back the hell off."

"King is trafficking women, some as young as fourteen," I say rather loudly, but I catch myself and lower my voice. "We are not dropping this case."

Erin becomes visibly anxious, and begins pacing back and forth. Seeing her this restless and worried rather than just angry softens every sharp edge in my heart. My fingers itch to reach out and touch her.

"What do you need here, Erin?" I ask her. I search her eyes, but she looks away.

I see her hesitate, but she resumes in a lower, quieter tone. "The same men who are forging visas to these girls are also providing the same service to terrorists."

"Back up..." I say. "You're going after terrorists?"

Erin nods. "No one can know about this."

To be continued…

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 **Thanks for reading. Your input is always welcome. Cheers!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello.**

 **I'm heartbroken right now. I can't put my feelings into words because it's all a bit irrational. The logic part of my brain understands and respects Sophia's decision (although I'm still waiting for the official word). I bet this was a very difficult decision for her to make, one she probably lost a lot of sleep over. But the irrational and more human part of my brain is angry, dejected, and inconsolable. I fell deeply in love with this show, and I feel like it just broke up with me. I'm in mourning for all the storylines that will never be.**

 **-Dee**

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 **Erin's POV**

The night breeze makes the air feel colder than it is and with my dress still partially damp, I'm shivering.

I came outside to try to clear my head, but it's not happening. My eyes close at their own volition and I feel him, all of him. I can taste Jay's lips on mine. I can feel his breath on my neck and his fingers grazing down my skin. It's all incredibly overwhelming to me, so I linger outside yearning for a release that's not going to come. I have to focus on something else, anything else, and I don't need to wait long for a distraction because the door to the alley suddenly screeches open.

"Trying to catch pneumonia?" I hear a voice ask. I look back and it's my undercover lookout, Seth, coming to check on me. When I don't speak, he asks, "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," I tell him dismissively. "Just needed to get some air."

"Did that guy rough you up before you put him down?"

"No," I tell him.

Seth cocks a brow, as if he doesn't believe me. After a beat he says, "He looked like a real jackass."

I chuckle humorlessly. "Yeah."

Seth is nice enough, polite in a way that will impress your mom, but has no real wit or anything very interesting to say. He is a solid FBI Agent, although he probably hits the bottle a little too often. And as if to prove my point, he pulls out a stainless-steel hip flask and offers me a swig. I usually turn him down, but today I take a long pull and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The liquid leaves a velvety burn on my throat.

Seth watches me, wearing a cocky grin as if he's finally seeing a chink in my armor. "Erin Lindsay is hitting the sauce."

I roll my eyes. I suppose I've kept myself guarded and Seth is thoroughly enjoying seeing a more human side of me. He continues to look me at me searchingly, but decides that I'm the best judge of how I'm feeling. "Before I forget," he says. "Jen wants to meet tomorrow," He tells me, taking a swig off the flask.

"Did she say why?"

"No, but I hear they are pulling the plug on this case."

"What? Why?" I ask stunned.

"If I were a guessing man I would say It's because we haven't found who's behind the phony visas."

"These things take time. I finally got their trust. We can't just pull out."

"It's not my call, Erin."

I shake my head, irritated that in spite of all the progress we've made the last couple of months, it still isn't enough. "I better get inside before anyone sees us," I say curtly and march back to the penthouse bash.

x

The next morning, I take the train to the East Side. Even though I only took a swig off Seth's flask, I woke up with the biggest pseudo-hangover it seems. My head hurts, every inch of my body aches, and the constant jostling on the train is making me nauseous. Perhaps I did catch pneumonia, standing in the cold in wet clothes. It also doesn't help my case that I slept a measly two hours before it was time to get up.

We meet in a warehouse in an abandoned shipyard by the East River. I'm apparently the last one to arrive and all eyes turn to me when I pull the door open. I take a seat around the table and try not to call more attention on myself.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin," Jen says curtly.

She outlines our operation and goes over the bits of information we've been able to obtain. She pulls out a new suspect list, emphasizing which ones we should keep and an eye on. Then I'm debriefed, followed by Seth and the two other operatives working in parallel with us. The meeting ends and to my surprise (and Seth's) there is no mention of the case being pulled. Although, there was an impatient urgency in her voice.

I'm about to leave when Jen pulls me aside. Her lips are pursed and a frown line creases her brow. "I was going over the recordings from last night and it seems yours cut off," she says.

"Oh," I feign surprise. "Maybe the chip broke or something. I will make sure to change it out before tonight."

"Everything okay?" She asks lightly. "You know, these cases can be very—"

"I'm fine," I cut her off. "It was just a long night," I say, over my shoulder as I walk out.

I sneak back into King's penthouse and one of his men catch me tiptoeing inside. This usually isn't a be a big deal because I'm not one of his girls. I just _work_ for him. During our initial surveillance of King's operation, we learned that he outsourced his business when the demand for girls were high. So we busted a known pimp, coerced him to work with us and in no time we infiltrated into King's operation as his associates. King has no idea he is in business with the Feds.

"Where you coming from?" he asks, leaning into my space so his face almost touches mine. I can smell alcohol in his breath.

"Just getting some blow," I tell him, not really making eye contact. Out of my periphery I watch his fists curl into tight balls. "What? You want some?" I offer in an attempt to diffuse any tension.

He scoffs before grabbing my arm and forcefully shoving me against the wall. He raises his hand and slaps me full across the left side of my face. It catches me off guard. My jaw drops as a new kind of anger radiates through my body. I keep my fists firmly planted at my sides to control the urge to punch his arrogant face.

"You whores think you can come and go as you please. Don't be sneaking outta here for some blow," he snaps.

"I needed a quick fix," I explain and slip out of his reach as quick as I can. I can't make a scene. Gotta keep my head down. I retreat to my room. I try to sleep but can't. My body aches and as the day wears on, I get more and more uncomfortable. I don't' remember ever feeling like this. I shake it off and try to put a lid on it. I need to get my head on straight because in a few hours it starts all over again. Maybe tonight we finally catch a break.

x

I feel utter disgust every time a man ogles at me, like I'm a piece of meat. Granted, I'm wearing a very revealing shirt with a handkerchief for a skirt, but that doesn't excuse their godawful behavior. I had forgotten what it felt like to feel this worthless and empty. I know this is just a cover, I know my worth. But when you're in this deep, the lines blur and you forget what's real and what's fake.

I shake off these feelings as I'm guided with the other girls to the party. We stand there, like merchandise, as sad excuses for men bargain our worth. A particularly heavyset man approaches me and starts up meaningless conversation. I feign interest and offer up silly anecdotes that puts forth a lighthearted version of myself, as if I'm happy to be in this line of business. But our conversation is cut short when someone intrudes on our conversation.

My eyes look up and land on Jay. A part of me feels immersed with anger that he didn't listen when I asked him to back off, and another part – the more vulnerable part – feels relief. I can see Jay observing the array of mixed emotions rippling across my face. Worry sets in his brow. But he quickly masks it with a cocky grin that goes well with the suit he is wearing.

Out of my periphery I see Seth sizing Jay up and down. His brow furrows and his nostrils flares; he is seething with disgust for the guy, who he thinks did wrong by me last night. Seth's glaring eyes drive darts through Jay. I hope for the sake of our undercover operation he keeps his distance.

"Excuse me," Jay interrupts. "I think I owe you this," he says and hands me a drink. The previous man leaves without protest, probably thinking he is no competition for a guy like Jay.

Jay nods his head and unassumingly sets a stack of money on the table, "I want her," he says to the _cashier._

I see Seth's jaw clench and a muscle twitch under his cheekbone. He walks right up to Jay and hisses, "Pick someone else."

Jay frowns and shoves Seth out of the way. "Nah, I want her."

As if to purposely push Seth's buttons, Jay snakes an arm over my shoulder and winks at him.

I can see the fury in Seth's eyes, read his irritation in the way that damn muscle keeps twitching in his jaw. "Pick. Someone. Else. Punk," he demands.

Jay shoves him out of the way, but Seth sneaks up behind him and puts him in a choke hold. Rookie move. Jay very casually spins in a half turn and slams Seth on the floor. Seth is stunned and winded. Jay kneels on his chest, clamping his wrists together with one hand. Seth tries to twist out of Jay's hold, but it's a futile.

"Hey, let's play nice," I intervene, putting the drink on my hand down. I pull Jay away from Seth, and glare at both of them. "He's a _good_ paying customer," I say.

Jay offers Seth a hand, but he doesn't take it. He slowly gets up to his feet, dusting himself down as he looks Jay and I up and down.

"I'll be just fine." I assure Seth through clenched teeth. Then I turn to Jay and add, "Don't mind him. I will show you a good time." I loop my arm around Jay's and pull him towards the room.

Once the door closes behind us, Jay mouths silently. "Are they listening?"

"No," I shake my head and slump on the bed, a headache is slowly setting in my temples. "You mic'ed?"

"No," he shakes his head.

After a beat I ask him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He releases a rush of air from his lungs and says, "I wanted to see you."

At least he is being honest and isn't dancing around the subject. "Okay, you see me," I say stripping any emotion from my voice. I can't lose focus. "You can go now."

Instead of leaving, Jay takes a seat next to me and says, "Look, I-I was worried about you." He gently puts a hand on my arm and I unintentionally I flinch. He frowns and instinctively pulls my sleeve up to find bruising from this morning's altercation. The redness was getting lighter and I didn't think it would bruise.

"What the f—"

"It's part of the job," I remind him.

"No," he says further inspecting my arm, "It's not!"

I pull on his shirt until the skin on his left shoulder is exposed and the gunshot scar is visible. "This was not part of the job?"

"That's different," he says, pulling at his shirt back.

"How's it different?" I glare at him. He doesn't have an explanation. "Look, if my people find out you're sniffing around, it won't end well for you."

"I will take my chances," he says smugly.

"The Feds can really screw you over," I tell him.

"Are they screwing _you_ over?" He asks. His eyes bore into me, searching for something I'm not sure I'm willing to share with him.

"No," I shake my head. "They are not screwing me over. You, on the other hand, will be if you don't back off."

"Erin, we are not backing down. This sex trafficking operation spans not only New York, but Chicago and California. King could be shipping girls all over the country."

I stand up and begin to pace. I've been trying not focus my attention on the sex trafficking issue because I didn't want to lose focus on the bigger picture. My job here is to find the men forging phony visas to terrorists. But this issue speaks louder to me. I can't ignore it.

"I need to speak to the higher ups," I tell him. "Maybe we can kill one two birds with one stone."

He nods.

After a beat of silence, we hear someone fidgeting with the door. I look panicked at Jay and his face probably reflects my own. He quickly shrugs off his suit jacket and pulls his shirt off. He pushes me on the bed, and there a moment when we look at each other. His eyes are asking me permission for what he is about to do. I nod, and his lips crush against mine. It's raw and inelegant. His kiss isn't sweet, or tender. It is rough, passionate, relieved. Needy. It is kiss of desperation. I slide my arms up around his neck and pull him closer, kissing him back just as thoroughly, just as desperately.

I lose myself in his kiss and I don't hear the door opening. I do notice when Jay's lips abruptly part from mine. My head is in a daze and it takes me a few seconds to see what is going on. Seth is throwing punches, but missing Jay by inches. Jay looks irritated now and grabs Seth by his shirt, pulls him forward, and knees him right in the gut. Seth falls to the floor, holding his stomach.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Jay says.

Seth stands up, determined not to make the same mistake, and throws a right, then a left. Jay throws a punch and misses. Seth counters with a left which Jay blocks with ease. Jay hits him low again with a right to the gut, then follows with an uppercut to the jaw that floors Seth.

"Are you done?" Jay asks.

Jay looks at me for a reaction, but I have nothing. Defeated, I walk towards Seth who is breathing heavily on the floor, with blood coming out of his nose and say, "Agent Seth Larson, meet detective Jay Halstead."

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 **Thank you for reading. I think another chapter will wrap this one up. Let me know what you think, even if it's just to vent on recent events. I will reply. Let's talk.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all your kind reviews.** **A few of your asked that I stretch this out a bit. So, I have. There will be a couple more chapter following this one.**

 **Rated [M]**

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 **Jay's POV**

I look around the small conference room, not really listening to the intense discussion happening between FBI special agent Jennifer Spencer, Olivia Benson, and Hank Voight. Instead, I'm watching Erin, looking very annoyed with her red, tired eyes staring into space. She looks drained, like she hasn't slept in days. The emotional exhaustion I see in her eyes slingshots me back to the early days in our partnership, when she hid her hurt. Erin was a tough nut to crack. I remember the wall she built around herself was like coming up against ice. She thawed with time, but I fucked it all up and triggered the quick freeze job and now I find myself back at square one.

It seems like we are worlds apart, but if the last two kisses we shared are any indication, the chemistry between us still feels palpable and alive. I pray that I'm not re-creating these feelings because what I feel is overwhelming. It is not just pheromones; it is something more. It has always been something more. Just looking at her I feel overcome with love. I want to pull her into my arms, cradle her neck, and place a lingering kiss on the underside of her jaw just below her ear, where I know will curve her lips into a dimpled smile.

"Jay? Isn't that right?"

The mention of my name snaps me out of my daze. "What? What was that?"

"You cover. Is it still solid?" Voight asks.

I nod and murmur, "Yes."

Erin's lookout, Sergio or whatever his name is, scoffs from the other corner of the room, staring daggers at me. He is nursing a bloody nose and a possible fractured rib. For someone who was supposed to be working at an undercover capacity, he really blew it when he attacked me. Makes me wonder exactly what is his deal with Erin that compelled him to compromise his cover.

"He's cover is solid," Voight intones. "There's no reason why we should pull him out."

"Your detective attacked one of my agents," Jen snaps.

"He came at me," I pipe up. "If anyone blew their cover, it was him," I say and turn to Sergio? Sebastian? I can't remember his name. "Why did you come at me?" I ask pointedly.

He glares at me and shifts an inch or two closer, squaring his shoulders into the sort of stance that usually initiates a fist fight. I'm not impressed, nor am I triggered. "Thought Erin was in trouble," he says curtly, narrowing his eyes.

I meet his glare and shake my head. "Don't you guys have a safe word, or a signal in case shit goes sideways?" I ask and this generates interest and everyone turns to him for an answer.

"The first time he came around she was all bent out of shape," he explains. "I thought I saw her panic."

Jen and Voight looks pointedly between Erin and I. Erin rolls her eyes and I see can see frustration wrinkling her brow.

"So there was no indication that she was in trouble?" I ask, but it's more of a statement. I just want to shift the conversation back to Agent numskull and away from Erin and I. I don't want to give Voight the satisfaction of thinking we can't work together.

"No," he answers, begrudgingly. "But when I opened the door and saw you on top of her, kissing her…I thought—"

"I was keeping my cover," I cut him off. "If anyone else had walked in, they would've expected to see—"

"Enough!" Jen holds a hand up to silence us and glares in frustration. Her face is flushed and her nostrils flares. "Doesn't matter now." She turns to Agent Dumbass. "Next time, wait for the goddamn signal. And you," She turns to me and I can see the thin veil of cordiality is gone. "Let's not make this into a pissing contest."

Her statement takes me by surprise. "What? No, I wasn't… I'm just—"

Jen waves her hand dismissively as if she's had enough and turns to Erin, "Erin, will there be a problem working with both, Larson and Halstead?"

Erin shakes her head. "No. I don't foresee a problem." I can see the anger in her eyes, but her voice is calm and confident.

"Okay then," Jen says and lets out a breath. "Now that we have made peace, can we move on?"

Her rhetorical question goes unanswered, but like a dysfunctional family with a common goal, we come to an agreement to work together. We hit the ground running and in a few days we begin to take out the limbs of King's operation. But it becomes clear there isn't enough to secure his downfall and expose his operation for what it is. So we start going at it full force, arresting key players left and right, apprehending all incoming girls, and raiding his cash houses. King becomes skeptical and distrusting of anyone and anything. As a result, we pull back just enough to keep our undercover operation intact. The last thing we need is to have out covers blown.

x

I'm once again at one of King's VIP parties, sitting in the corner waiting for Erin. When I finally see her, she puts on a little show and I follow her to one of the rooms in the back. I've become such a frequent customer that no one bats an eye at us. We walk down the narrow hallway unnoticed and Erin lets us in one of the rooms. Once the door closes behind us, she does the same thing every time – plops herself on the bed and rips the high heel shoes off, tossing them on the floor. I manage to suppress my amused smile.

"I didn't think you're coming tonight?" She says.

I begin unbuttoning my dress shirt while she shimmies out of her dress. We can't take risks, especially now that King is paranoid. If they find us sitting around in our clothes, it will raise a red flag.

"Your lookout, Sergio, wanted to go over every minute detail on yesterday's briefing. That guy is a tool."

She nods slowly and lets a grin spread across her face. I can tell she thinks I'm just plain, green-eyed jealous.

"His name is Seth and he's just giving you a hard time," Erin says.

"I guess." I undo my belt buckle and my pants fall in a pool on the floor. I flop down on to the bed in only my boxers and add, "He's still bitter about getting his ass handed to him."

"You broke his nose," she says and lies down next to me, stretched out. Our bodies inches apart.

I try not to focus so much on the fact that she's wearing only a cute little pink bra and lacy underwear. They aren't the skimpiest or the most flattering, but they look perfect on her. She smells like wild honeysuckle, and her skin is so soft. She rests one hand delicately on her stomach, where she gently strokes her skin. I watch hypnotized, as her hand glides upwards to her breast, stopping just above her heart. Then she runs her tongue over her lips and I begin to wonder if she's deliberately trying to torture me. I close my eyes for just a second, trying to rid my head of the colorful imagery and focus on the reason why we're here.

"I, uh, brought some photos for you to take a look," I say and go grab my phone from my pants pocket on the floor. I toss her the phone and she swipes at the screen.

She takes a couple of minutes to look at all the photos, but she shakes her head. "I don't recognize them."

"The Feds pinched them last week in New Mexico. They ran a halfway house, but it was a front for smuggling girls in through Mexico. We think King will be reaching out to whoever forges the phony visas since Mexico is no longer an option for smuggling the girls in."

"That's great," she says eagerly.

"There's only a small problem," I tell her. "King has gone dark."

Her brow furrows. "Meaning?"

"He's only using burner phones, doing face to face deals, leaving no paper trails. The guy knows we're on to him." I tell her and the smile on her face fades. "But one way or the other he is going down."

She nods and attempts a smile, but it doesn't reach her ears. No dimples either.

"Hey," I reach for her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she shakes her head. "I've been at this for months and I want my life back."

"Hey," I say, adding some pep to my voice. "We are basically partners again. That's gotta bring back some semblance of normalcy, right?"

She releases a soft chuckle, but then she quiets and glances up at me through soft eyelashes. When she looks at me like that I do a double take because I know that look, that glint in her eyes. I slide one arm around her waist to pull her close, she doesn't stop me. My fingers itch to touch her… my mouth water with need to taste her. I tip her chin upwards and she closes her eyes as our lips brush against each other for one soft, hesitant kiss. The contact lasts only a few seconds. Just long enough to make me crave a second one. Her eyes open and she meets my questioning gaze. Hearing her soft sigh and watching her eyes lower to my lips, I recognize the permission her body language gives me to kiss her again.

I lean forward and breathe her sweet fragrance before tasting her lips. She drapes her arms around my neck and the next thing I know; I'm leaning her back onto the bed. I'm not satisfied with just her lips, so I move to her neck, her collarbone, and of course, the soft spot just below her ear. I want her so bad my bones ache. She represents everything that is good in my life, and while it might scare the shit out of me, I'm helplessly drawn to it.

We're both breathless by the time our lips part. "If you want me when to stop, I will stop." I tell her as I place a kiss on her stomach. She doesn't speak, just stares into my eyes. My breath catches over not just the desire I see there, but the tenderness too. I've missed her so damn much.

"I missed this," I tell her. I take her hand in mine and place a barely-there-kiss on each of her knuckles. "I missed you."

Erin's other hand cups my cheek. I lean into her touch. "I missed you too," she says softly. Her husky voice reaches my heart, squeezing hard.

There's a question in her eyes, and without thinking I kiss her again. I take my time; I kiss her real slow. This kiss is soft – tender even – but I get a little greedy. I can't help it. Pulling back from her lips, I kiss and taste and nibble my way down her neck and chest. I pull at the lacy fabric of her bra and swirl my tongue over one sensitive pink nipple. I suck on it slowly – lovingly. I switch to her other breast and give it the same attention. The sigh that flutter over her lips is so beautifully sweet my heart flips over. I continue to kiss her down her stomach and goosebumps appear on her creamy skin. I feel her muscles tighten underneath my fingertips and I can't tell if it's anticipation or apprehension.

"Just say the word and I'll stop," I remind her breathlessly one more time. The last thing I want to go is push her to do something she doesn't want.

"Are we crazy?" she asks, then covers her face with her hands.

I know it's a rhetorical question, but I answer anyways. "No," I shake my head and gently tug her hands away from her face. I plant a kiss on her nose and my lips brush against each corner of her mouth. I begin trailing lingering kisses down her collar bone. "Just…Let me love you– all of you?" I plea, sliding further down her body. I silently watch her. I want to show her how much I love her and I want to erase what happened between us, because it never should have happened. I want to make it right for her.

She hesitates, so I kiss her inner thighs (I know, I'm not playing fair here) and wait patiently for her decision.

She bites her bottom lip and nods.

I slide her underwear down her legs. Her scent draws my lips in and I burrow between her thighs. My mouth meets impossibly soft skin and I gently part her glistening folds with my tongue to lap up the sweetness coating her. I love her. I take in the beautiful sight of her as I suck and lick her sweetness with torturing slowness at my leisure with not a care in the world. I know how to work her and I get her to the point where she writhers as I latch onto her and suckle her soft flesh with expert, gentle force, knowing exactly what she needs. Then her back arches, her fingers tug at the sheets as she comes against my lips. She moans and pants as her orgasms rolls through her.

I smile and watch her, mesmerizes by the ecstasy rippling across her face. I did that for her. I sooth her tremors with soft laps, gentling her before rising above her on the bed to bring her back to the brink once more. I lower my eyes to her level, making sure, she's completely in this moment with me. Soft hazel eyes languid with lust gaze into mine. I dip my head and kiss her. I kiss her like she deserves to be kissed. I hold her like she deserves to be held. And I'm about to love her like she deserves to be loved.

The intensity of this moment threatens to pull me under, but I shove it back and gently push myself inside of her, slowly taking her in, before sheathing her completely. This woman is going to give me the sweetest kind of death. No matter how much I mentally prepare for I, she surpasses my wildest dreams every time. She need to know how much I missed her and how much she means to me.

I grab on her hips and move slowly. She feels even tighter and possibly even more incredible, so I need to control myself. My hands move up to cup her breasts and I lean forward to kiss her neck. She immediately responds and arches her back into me. It may be the last time I kiss her. The last time I get to touch her, be with her. I'm memorizing every part of her; her taste and smell. She feels so amazing and I love her so much. I want this. Forever.

x

Erin lies over me with her head on my chest. Her body is soft and spent. I run my fingers through her hair, eliciting a sigh of contentment from her.

"I never took you to my grandpa's cabin in Wisconsin," I tell her. "I want to take you there." She hums her approval against my chest, but tries to leave the bed. I pull her back to me, setting her with her bare back to my chest as I nip her earlobe. "You're not getting away from me," I whisper. "I happen to enjoy my cuddles."

She chuckles. "We can't pretend we're back _home_."

I kiss her temple, tightening my hold around her and bury my nose in her hair. "I know," I say. Her body relaxes and her fingers interlace with mine. I know that I shouldn't, but I close my eyes for a moment. But the moment ends and soon I find myself walking out of the room. I bet there's a stupid smile on my lips and it doesn't even matter because tonight I don't have to pretend– it's all real. My night with Erin was real.

I hang around the bar for a few minutes, and as I'm getting up to leave I hear my cover name being called.

"Ryan Smith." I turn back and see King, himself, coming my way. "You've become such a loyal customer."

"You offer quality merchandise," I say.

There's a pleased smile on his lips. "What did you say your job was?"

I frown. I don't like where this is going. "I'm a PR specialist."

"Right, right. You're magician. You make things…disappear."

He makes a show with his hands and I chuckle humorlessly. "In lames terms, yes," I agree with him.

"I need to make _somethings_ disappear." He looks pointedly and adds, "Meet me tomorrow at this address."

"I don't mix business with pleasure," I say and begin to walk away, but I'm barred by a wall of his men.

"See, I knew you would say that." The smile on his face turns vile. He motions with his hand, calling someone over, and in walks two of his henchman dragging Erin to the main floor. Her body jerks, dangling, blood dripping, leaving a trail on the floor. Her are eyes blood red, her cheeks swollen, her hair disheveled, her dress torn to shreds. My heart stops. Panic sets in and threatens to overtake me. I try to keep my cool and be smart, but I can't. I look around and Agent Fuckhead is nowhere in sight.

"What the fuck is this?" I say and try to go to Erin, but his men stop me from ever reaching her.

"This is incentive." Kings says coldly and hands me the address and adds, "Meet me there or you can say goodbye to your whore."

To be continued…

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 **Thanks for reading. Leave any comments/concerns/ideas. Cheers!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the reviews! This was supposed to have been a one-shot, but you guys asked to stretch this one out and I'm glad I did. Here is the final Chapter. I had previously written a different ending, but after a certain rumor (it still hasn't been confirmed guys!) starting going around, it just didn't feel right. So, I re-wrote it. I hope you guys like it.**

 **I own nothing.**

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 **Erin's POV**

I can't remember the last time I felt this helpless. Despite all the shit that I've lived through, I've never once thought: _this is how I will die._ One moment I am immersed in all things Jay, the next I'm being pummeled and beaten to a pulp. I don't have time to understand what's happening before I am dragged by one of King's men and punched repeatedly. He hits me me over and over, and over again, until i feel something snap in my face. Everything goes numb. The next time I see him pulling his fist back it is covered in blood, spraying everywhere, the floor, the walls, and all over his clothes. For a split second I think his hand is cut. Maybe It is his blood. But it isn't. It's mine. Then, two hands clasp around my neck; squeezing and squeezing until my head feels like it is going to explode and I pass out.

When I come around, I'm gasping – can't breathe, can't move, can't scream because there is no air in my lungs. My heart gallops in my ears. I feel my body being dragged once again. I dig my nails into the wooden floors, desperate to get away. I ignore the blood and searing pain in my fingertips. My endorphins are set into overdrive and I grab onto what I think is a metal post, but it turns out to be a floor lamp. It crashes to the floor and small shards of glass scrape and dig into my body as I'm swept me across the floor. I shrieked and they yank harder. I try to fight them off, but they stab a needle into my arm, injecting a white milky liquid; instantly my head turns hazy and my body goes weak.

The next thing I know my body is being flung into the middle of the main room like a rag doll. My vision is blurry. I can feel my left eyesight narrowing, tightening as it swells up. I pan my eyes as best I can around the room and I see Jay. I blink twice as I feel tears running down my face. Not sure if it's out of fear, pain, or utter happiness. There's an eerie silence, like the build-up in a horror film, and then I see Jay pushing his way towards me only to be barred by two big, burly men. I take a deep breath and try to not lose control of my emotions.

Jay says something unintelligible to my ears as he tries to claw his way to me, but King appears in my periphery and I see his lips moving, but I can't follow what he is saying either. They exchange words and I'm only vaguely aware of what Jay's saying – a compromise? I think. King stops for a moment, then signals for his men to leave. One by one they filter out until it's just me, Jay, and King in the room.

I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. I feel helpless and pearls of sweat spread across the surface of my skin everywhere. Darkness envelops me and takes me like I'm buried up to my neck on the beach, and the tide is washing over my head. I take deep breaths between every coming and going wave. This lasts for a few minutes until I feel exhausted. I dream that water flows down my throat and fills my lungs.

x

I feel my body being shaken back and forth. Someone has their hands on my shoulders, shaking me. The sound of Seth's voice breaks through my slumber, jolting me awake.

"What the fuck? What did you do to her?" Seth's voice is muffled— impatient and angry— amidst the haziness in my mind. "She won't be able to work for a while now, maybe ever. Who's going to pay for my loss wages?" Seth shrieks.

"She'll be fine," I hear King's voice mutter.

"What about these fucking bruises and all this damn blood?"

"I already told you," King says more sternly. "She'll be fine."

I feel Seth's arms slip under me a lift me against him. I can smell the booze on him coming off in waves, but I don't have enough resolve in me to care.

"You can beat up your whores," Seth snaps, "But don't touch mine."

I feel my body being jostled as he storms out. Pain jolts down my spine like an electric shock and I swallow the moan in the back of throat. I open my eyes – everything is out of focus and fuzzy – and try to pan my head around to find Jay's, but Seth holds me tightly against his chest.

"J-Jay?" I ask in a low voice. My throat tightens. I squeeze my eyes closed and then open them again.

Seth looks down at me with weary eyes. "I don't know." His voice is low. He looks sad, guilty even, and it strikes me as odd because this look—this pitiful look—doesn't suit him at all. "I'm sorry," He tells me but then I hear him mumble, "I should've been there…I'm sorry—"

A burst of cold air hits me and I shiver. We're outside. I think my lips curve into a smile, relieved. I start closing my eyes again. I feel so heavy.

"Hey, hey," Seth taps my face, his voice tinged with urgency. "Please try to stay awake." With great difficulty I flutter my eyes open. I see him fish for his phone as he props me up. "I need an ambulance at the intersection of 2nd and 59th street," I hear his shaky voice say. "Erin, stay with me," Seth pleas. "Everything will be okay."

I detect uncertainty in his voice. I open my eyes, discover blackness once again, and let out a jagged breath. The pain in my chest worsens. I close my eyes, then open them again. There is no difference whether they are closed or not. It's all black. There is nothing. I see nothing.

x

I wake up in a haze. My whole body is sore, but the exhaustion fog I felt before has lifted. I realize I'm in a hospital. I look around and see that I'm only attached to an IV, so can't be that bad. Seth is in the room and as soon as he sees that I'm up, he quickly moves his lanky body from the place he's perched and approaches the bed. He stretches, yawns, and rubs the back of his neck as if trying to rub away stiffness. He looks worried, pale, and sweaty and the circles under his eyes are dark half-moons. His hands are shaking – probably hasn't had a drink in a while.

"Hey," he says. "Glad you're back."

"How long was I out?" I rasp and swallow, feeling the moist saliva ease off the back of my tongue and down my dry, scratchy throat.

"A couple of hours," he says. "You had a cocktail of benzo in your system."

I remotely remembered a needle pricking my arm.

"Where's Jay?" I ask, panning my eyes around the small hospital room.

"I'm not sure." Seth pauses and takes a deep breath. I can see him trying to put his thoughts into words. "Last I heard he was being debriefed by the DA's office."

"DAs? Really?" I ask incredulously. "Do we enough to finally make a case?"

Seth shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe."

He offers me a faint, disappointed smile. An uncomfortable silence peppered with the sounds nurses and doctors filtering through the hallway fills the room for a few minutes before Seth says, "They got you good," he says. "But the doctor said you'll be good as new in a couple of days."

I smile faintly. "Thank you for saving me," I say. "I don't know what would've done if—"

"I didn't save you," he says, his voice heavy and thick with something akin to shame. His eyes shift from the floor to the edge of the hospital bed, and he appears to lose focus. "It was Jay. I was, uh… _not there_."

My memory feels a little hazy, but I'm pretty sure I remember him carrying me out. I frown. "I remember you carrying me out." I voice my thoughts.

"Yeah, I did that. But it was all Jay…" There's something he is not telling me – like he's dancing around the subject.

"Out with it," I tell him.

"Look, I thought you didn't need me." He rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head. "I was out of line—"

Before Seth gets a chance to finish and before I have a chance to understand what he is talking about, the door to the room opens, revealing an anxious Jay on the other side. His eyes pan around the room and land on Seth. Seth doesn't move, as if accepting whatever is dealt to him. Jay takes a few steps and grabs him by his blazer lapels and shoves him against the wall. Seth doesn't struggle.

"What are you doing here?" Jay snarls in Seth's face and shoves him hard against the wall again. "You need to leave," Jay orders.

"Jay," I try to intervene. "It's okay—"

"No," Seth shakes his head. "I-I have to go. Jen's waiting for me."

Seth straightens his blood covered blazer and marches out of the room with his head down.

I have so many questions swirling in my head, but I don't have the chance to ask because Jay's lips are suddenly pressing lightly against mine. His touch is tender and his hands barely stroke my face. This euphoric feeling suddenly fills me to the brim and makes my mind hitch. When our lips part and he carefully ghosts kisses over my cheek, then my forehead and down to the tip of my nose. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, perhaps just getting his fill of me as I am of him.

His soft eyes roam my face. "How're you feeling?" He places soft, barely there kisses across each of my knuckles. He doesn't seem to mind the caked blood on them.

"Like I was hit by a truck," I tell him. "What happened? Why did you kick Seth out?"

Jay releases a heavy breath. "He _was_ your lookout. If he had been doing his job, you wouldn't be here," He tells me through clenched teeth.

"He pulled me out," I tell Jay. "He called the ambulance."

Jay scoffs. "Because I told him. He was half way to being plastered if I hadn't found him." He shakes his head. "I don't even want to think what would've happened had I not been there."

I know I should be mad, but for some reason I'm not. I guess I've been conditioned to never blame anyone, but myself. I place my hand on his face. He leans into my touch. Before I question what we're doing, I veer my train of thought elsewhere, "Umm, Seth said you were meeting with the DAs?"

"Yeah," he nods. A smile pulls at his lips. "We got King," he says. "We go him on everything."

I sit up a little straighter because I can't believe what I'm hearing, "Did we really?"

Jay takes as seat on the edge of the small hospital bed and explains that King took the bait and asked him to make a trail of paperwork that dealt with his sex trafficking operation disappear. And how amongst all those documents, they were able to find the names of the people who supplied the visas.

"The DA has all the evidence. All the paperwork." He smiles back, but it's sad around the edges. He slips his hand into mine and says, "This case is closed."

I smile, relieved, but then it hits me. My stomach clenches. "When are you going back to Chicago?"

He looks down and takes my hand in his. "Tomorrow." He let a sad smile play along his lips when our eyes meet, and I have to downplay what it does to me. "You should come back-" He pauses, then murmurs, "-with me."

The sincerity in his words freezes the air in my lungs. I take a minute to compose myself before I fall into the precipice of his deep blue eyes. "I can't," I blurt it out before I think it over, yet again. "I've got a good thing going here."

Jay releases my hand and reaches for the side of my face, brushing the hair off my bruised cheek. His fingertips barely touch my skin, yet send shivers down my back. "We have a good thing going too," he says timidly. "We can be good together."

My mouth turns up into the barest of grins. Hi hand slides down my neck, and brushes the bare skin of my arm, then curves around the small of my back and slowly, ever so slowly, pulls me closer to him. My head tucks under his chin and he continues to pull until my chest is pressed against his. I can feel the thud of his heart, the rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes. Such simple, involuntary acts, yet they permeate my consciousness, draw me in with hypnotizing lull.

I pull away, just slightly –I can't let myself get lost in him. "I have nothing in Chicago," I tell him. "They took everything from me. This is all I have."

He pulls back a little more, looks me straight in the eye and says, "You have me."

The words leave his mouth because it's the most fitting response, but we both know it's more complicated than that. "Maybe this will be good for me, ya know?" I tell him. "Fresh start. Away from…everything."

By the way he looks at me he knows I mean my mother. He lowers his head in defeat and nods. He understands. This is the way it has to be. At least for now.

"Are you going to come and visit me?" He asks.

"As long as you come visit me," I tell him.

He nods.

There's this unspoken notion that hangs between us – that we rather have each other at any capacity than not at all. He knows Chicago, at least for now, is not the best place for me. Whether New York also falls under that same category… Well, that's too early to tell. But I should see it through.

"Maybe I will push my flight a few days..." He says with a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Make sure you heal okay."

I smile too. "I think I would like that."

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 **Thanks for reading! I don't know what S5 holds, but I'm holding out hope for some closure. Cheers!**


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